Worth Dying Over
by Embolalia
Summary: They were working, teasing, when suddenly Somalia was upon them. "Do you remember what I said?" Tony pressed. Season 7.
1. Chapter 1

**Worth Dying Over**

This occurs some time post-Faith. It refers to the scene in Sandblast (mid-4th season, I think?) when Ziva diffuses a bomb as well as some moments from Truth and Consequences that I'm sure you're familiar with. Reviews are much loved!

* * *

As soon as they'd cleared the house, Ziva returned to Tony in the living room, resuming the teasing she'd begun in the car, about how Delores had tried and failed on two occasions now to make it all the way through asking him out for coffee.

The look on Tony's face stopped her.

"Ziva," he whispered, pointing behind her and up.

She gave him a wary look. She wouldn't put it past Tony to play on her credulity for a prank.

"Bomb," he added.

She whirled, and froze herself at what she saw. Perched over the door frame was a block of C4 wrapped in wires and flashing lights. Without another moment's thought, she pushed a potted plant off an end table and pulled it into place, stepping onto it as she pulled out her knife. Tony's hands settled her at her waist at once.

"What?" she asked frantically.

"Don't fall," he said firmly.

Ziva nodded and opened her knife, getting to work.

"We should leave," Tony said in an off-hand tone as she began to separate the wires. "Gibbs would make us."

She shrugged. "What is it? Better to ask forgiveness...?"

"Than to get permission," he confirmed.

Ziva snipped a wire, watched the clock stop with satisfaction and turned to the other wires to deactivate the thing entirely. "We've done this before," she said lightly, looking down at Tony. She was suddenly aware of the warmth of his hands on her waist, steadying her on the shaky little table.

He looked confused a moment, then his eyes cleared. "In that warehouse. In the rafters."

Ziva smiled tightly, returning her eyes to what she was doing. "You told me I wasn't worth dying over."

Looking up at her, Tony was struck by the tension in her face. It stunned him that his words were what she remembered most clearly from that day.

"Is it deactivated?" he spluttered.

Ziva clipped one more wire. "Yes!" she said cheerfully.

Without waiting for more information, Tony lifted her by the hips, swinging her to the ground, setting her between the door frame and his body so she had to face him.

"Hey!" Ziva gasped in surprise, smacking his arm.

Tony wasn't distracted. "Haven't I proved I don't think that?" he asked softly. "That you _are_ worth dying over?"

Her eyes widened. Somalia was suddenly upon them.

"Do you remember?" Tony pressed, asking the question he'd wanted to ask since the plane ride home. "Do you remember what I said when we got you out?"

Ziva gave a shaky nod. She felt suddenly overheated, as if remembering that moment in the desert was bringing it back into reality.

"I was serious then," Tony said firmly. "Even dead, you were worth dying over. You weren't worth living without." His throat seemed to close up behind the words as anxiety rushed through him. She didn't give him any encouragement the first time and here he'd said it again.

She took a deep breath, leaning back against the door frame and resting her hands on Tony's chest. "I do remember," Ziva managed to say before her eyes dropped from his. She studied the pattern on his shirt furiously as she continued. "I spent three months knowing that my father was content to have me die for him. And after all that it was too much...I did not want you to die for me. I had stopped believing I was worth anyone's efforts," her voice had fallen to a whisper. "Especially yours."

Tony's arms were around her in an instant, Ziva's hands trapped between them. She took a deep breath of his cologne as she pressed into him, the smell making her giddy.

"I could no longer imagine we would ever be here," she added.

Tony pulled back, tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. "And now?"

Ziva swallowed hard. "It still overwhelms me," she admitted softly. "I should thank you, I should have—this is so much more than anyone has ever given me."

He nodded in sympathy at the fear in her eyes. "It overwhelms me, too. But whenever you're ready to deal with it, let me know." Tony released her, and saw the hint of regret in Ziva's face as she stepped away from him.

She pulled out her phone. "We should have the rest of the place swept for bombs."

Tony nodded, surprised by the relief he felt as he watched her place the call. _She knew._ She had known this whole time how he felt, and here they were, still partners, still working, no one dead, no one maimed. He shook his head with a chuckle. Overwhelmed didn't begin to cover it. But neither did happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Worth Dying Over**

I had no real intentions of continuing this, but your lovely feedback (and a second snow day in a row!) convinced me to do so. That should encourage you to keep reviewing!

So, I attribute thoughts to Ziva in this chapter that there's no evidence of in canon. But really, if you think about it, shouldn't this be going on in her head?

* * *

Ziva took a sip of her tea, glancing surreptitiously over the lid at Tony. She had spent so much time trying to forget Somalia. There was so much pain in those memories, so much despair. She had become a person there she was afraid to recognize. And somehow she had blocked out his words too, but after yesterday they won't leave her head.

_Even dead, you were worth dying over. You weren't worth living without._

Tony looked up at her and caught her eye. "Out of work, probie?" He grinned ferally.

Ziva rolled her eyes and turned back to her computer. But she didn't pay attention to the report she was typing. She was consumed instead by one thought: _even now, at this moment, he loves me._ She didn't presume it was romantic love, or that he would ever bring himself to say the words, but the absolute proven truth of it left her quaking inside.

Of all the people in her life, Tony was the only one who had gone to such lengths to prove he cared. After she nearly killed him, knowing she hated him. Tony. She felt like she might explode, or cry—typing was not sufficient outlet for the nervous energy that swept through her every time he spoke. "Coffee break?" or "I'm going to see Abby," or "What kind of babies do you think Delores and Boss would make?" were accompanied by no more than his usual joking smile, but were followed now in her mind by a tag – _Couldn't live without you, I guess._

Ziva shook her head, trying to stop it from radically reinterpreting his words. Overwhelmed, she'd told him yesterday, and that hardly began to cover it. To be honest she'd never tried to reconcile her daily life with Tony with his actions to save her until now, and the harder she tried the more impossible it seemed, the easier it seemed to go on pretending that from May until August she'd been right here at this desk.

Except that even if he'd never been forced to prove it, it might still have been true.

Tony's cellphone rang.

She watched as he snapped it open, spat, "DiNozzo." His posture straightened, a tell-tale sign he was talking to Gibbs. Ziva stood and holstered her gun.

Tony snapped the phone closed and sprang from his seat. "Sounds like we've got an address for the bomber. In Bethesda," he told her quickly as he grabbed his own weapon and his coat. "Let's go."

*

This time the bomb was wired the headboard of the bed, taunting them with the imminent destruction of the only evidence that could convict the killer beyond a doubt.

Ziva clambered over the body even as Tony flinched, but frowned in dismay when she saw the explosive. Her disarmament of the bomb yesterday had impressed the killer, and today's was incredibly more complex. She opened her knife, but paused, considering the wires carefully.

Tony set his hands on the headboard, holding it steady so the bomb wouldn't move if she shifted on the bed.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he said lightly.

Ziva glanced at him, remembering, then forced her attention back to the bomb. "This is serious," she said, trying not to sound frantic.

Tony could clearly read her. "We should go," he said firmly in his senior-agent tone.

She glared at him. "I can do this, just be quiet." She put him out of her mind, narrowed her attention down to just this, this one wire that connected _there,_ to make _that_ happen—hah! One cut wire and the beeping stopped. Ziva eased the circuit board off the top of the bomb, hoping to dissemble the entire bomb and froze at what she saw beneath it. She willed her hands not to shake.

"What is it?" Tony demanded, his eyes fixed on her face.

Ziva shook her head slightly, still staring at the stopped clock. Two seconds. If she'd even spoken three words to him—she set the circuit board down before she dropped it. "Let's get out of here." She swung her leg over the corpse and walked out of the house as fast as she could, out into the cold winter air.

"Ziva!" Tony called after her from the threshold.

She didn't turn. She couldn't talk to him now. She wasn't supposed to have deal with this until she was ready.


	3. Chapter 3

**Worth Dying Over**

We did have a third snow day yesterday (seriously, Maryland? Seriously?) but I drove home to my parents' house for seven hours and so you didn't get a chapter. But here's a new one! Also, thank you all SO much for reviewing. I'm glad you're enjoying this too.

So, I started making a list of the questions Tony and Ziva would have to discuss before I'd let them get together (at least in this story). And there were clearly too many to fit in one chapter. But here's a start!

* * *

Tony watched through the peephole. Ziva had been pacing the hallway outside his apartment door for nearly ten minutes. Back and forth, her eyes intent on the wood flooring.

He was impatient to open the door and herd her inside, but he knew that would be the definition of rushing her. All the same, he didn't look away. If she started to leave, he'd have to catch her.

Finally Ziva stopped at one end of the path she was wearing in the floor, stood a moment, then spun on the balls of her feet and walked up to the door.

"Okay," she said simply, looking in at him. "I'm ready."

Tony shook his head, smiling faintly. Of course she knew. He swung the door open. But when he saw the seriousness on her face, his stomach clenched. "What's up?" he forced out lightly. She'd come back to the crime scene earlier, but without an explanation.

Ziva took a breath, then looked up at him. "I am here in case. In case one of these days we are two seconds later and get caught in the blast."

A smile quirked across his face. "This is your insurance policy?"

She glared at him. "It would be hubris to assume nothing bad will ever happen to us, given our jobs."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Nice vocabulary word."

"Tony--"

"You're right," he said more seriously. "Though we do have a fair amount of evidence that we can survive anything."

Now Ziva was glaring. "You have been infected with plague, nearly blown up, beaten up, grazed--"

"I mean nothing fatal has happened to us yet," Tony defended, leaning against the door.

"So you think I should go?"

Now he was flustered. "Not at all!" He stepped back, suddenly quite polite.

Ziva entered warily, then turned back to face Tony as he locked the door behind her. "Alright."

"Alright what?"

She shrugged. "You said when I was ready to deal with things, to let you know."

For the second time in two days, Tony quaked at hearing his own words on her lips. "I didn't really plan this."

She laughed, then sighed. "Tony..."

He gestured her to the couch, and they sat, a foot apart, both unsure.

"I do not know where we should begin," Ziva finally said, looking at Tony sideways.

"Say whatever comes to mind," he offered, glad she'd spoken first.

"I think we should be able to talk about what happened. I don't think we can go back to watching movies and eating pizza without—I do not think we should get to do this without talking first. There are things I want to ask you, things I am sure you must want to know."

He tensed. "Should we have rules?"

"There are things you don't want to tell me?" She looked hurt.

"No! I--"

Ziva looked away. "Don't want to hear?"

"Ziva." His tone commanded her attention. "I'd tell you absolutely anything if you asked."

_ Couldn't live without you. _She felt like she was falling. "Alright."

"You first."

She looked at him nervously.

"Ziva, you tried to kill me and I'm still here. Nothing you can say will get rid of me."

She smiled faintly, but her shoulders relaxed. Ziva turned on the couch to face him. "Why did you come to my apartment that night?"

Tony took a deep breath. Good. They were starting with facts, not feelings. Facts he could do. "Abby went through the laptop in Tabul's apartment. It had incriminating data on it and had been used from your apartment. I...thought, hoped, it had been Rivkin who left it there and that you weren't involved. I went there to ask you about it."

There was a hint of surprise in her face, but it passed quickly into sadness. "So there is no question that he was setting me up."

Tony was surprised to realize that, even now, she cared. "Why did you love him?" he asked even before he'd planned the question.

Ziva's eyes widened, taking in Tony's own surprise, but he didn't withdraw the question. She spoke to her knees as she answered slowly. "I had always assumed that I would return to Israel eventually. And that summer when I did..." Now she met Tony's eyes. "Even then I was losing my father's trust. I needed a way out. It would have been acceptable for me to leave if I was beginning a family. And Michael was kind to me at a time when I was lonely." She resisted the urge to look away with the last admission. Instead her gaze reminded Tony of how he had felt that summer, those painful months on the ship. If he'd had a romantic prospect and incentive to pursue it...

"But that only explains why you were _with _him," Tony pressed. "why did you _love_ him?" He tried not to sound too needy.

Her mouth tightened as she stared off into a memory. "I'm not sure I did. But it had been a long time since anyone had cared for me like that. Or seemed to."

Tony nodded, reevaluating the rest of the story in light of her words. Something didn't make sense. "If your father suspected you even then, why did you stay? You could have come back with us."

Ziva closed her eyes, twisted her hands in her lap. "Were you ever afraid of your father?"

Tony winced. "He sure knew how to wield a belt."

She looked at him, into him. "Mine knows how to wield assassins. He would not have stopped at trying to blow up my apartment. He wanted me home or dead. Or both. By returning I could ensure he did not next blow up my car with you or Gibbs or McGee in it as well."

He recoiled in shock at her words. "You really thought he might kill you?"

Ziva's lips twisted. "He proved it, didn't he?"

Tony slid his hand toward her across the couch cushion, but stopped short of touching her, reached instead for the next question, still trying to reconcile the pieces of the story he witnessed with the rest of what must have happened. "Why didn't you ask us for help? Gibbs has always trusted you more than the rest of us. I never thought he'd leave you behind."

Ziva met his eyes, offering a truth he hadn't asked for. "I gave him an ultimatum. One he knew I would never give. And he trusted my judgment because...because I killed Ari for him."

Tony reeled back, stood and began to move, unable to sit still while he processed her words.

Ziva watched him quietly, waiting for judgment.

After a moment, Tony sat. "Is that why?" he asked frantically, searching her eyes. "Is that why your father--"

She shrugged. "I do not know. He...ordered it. I took the mission because I thought I could get Ari safely away, could keep him alive." She looked back at him. "But he wasn't who I thought he was. He was who you and Gibbs thought he was."

Tony was shocked by the sadness in her eyes even now, years later. "And you killed him."

"To save Gibbs," she finished.

He nodded, taking a long slow breath. He looked down at his knees. He'd sat back down only inches from Ziva and she hadn't flinched away. But she'd done it a lot in the last few months. Tony knew what he had to ask next, but he didn't want to. He wondered if it made him a coward that he didn't want to know. As he opened his mouth, his phone went off and they both jumped.

Tony looked up in time to see the hint of panic in Ziva's eyes, and laid a hand on her shoulder as he flipped the phone open.

"DiNozzo," he said firmly.

"Hey," Gibbs answered. Tony missed his next few words as he felt Ziva's lean into his touch as her pulse calmed. "...lead on the bomber. Need you to meet me." Tony returned his attention to the phone, jotted down the address.

After a minute he snapped his phone closed again and looked at Ziva apologetically. "Boss says," he began.

She nodded. "I heard." She began to stand.

"Ziva." He grabbed her hand, keeping her beside him.

She looked down at Tony.

He stood up beside her. "Ziva..." He had no idea what to say, so he released her hand and hugged her against him, quickly but hard, then stepped back. "Just in case."

Ziva smiled crookedly and nodded, then led the way silently toward the door.

Tony followed, trying to process the revelations of the last few minutes. He wondered as he followed Ziva down to the parking lot if she really was the woman he'd always thought. He'd always loved that they communicated so well without words, but the secrets that had been left unsaid ran deeper than Tony had ever imagined.


	4. Chapter 4

**Worth Dying Over**

A word of advice: if you've spent most of a Christmas Eve service writing snarky comments about Mary on your church program to entertain your siblings, don't then start writing fragments of dialogue for a story. They find it very confusing. (Yeah, I'm Jewish. It's complicated.)

Anyway, I know you'd all love to hear the end of the conversation Tony and Ziva were just having, but instead here's a little trip through Tony's head, a parallel to Ziva in chapter 2 if you will. And, um, please ignore the "plot" going on in the background. I know it's about as logical as, well, most episodes of NCIS. Happy holiday!

* * *

Tony swung into the driveway and parked behind Gibbs' car. He and Ziva hadn't made small talk in the car, hadn't really talked at all. He'd barely registered her presence, he was so lost in the meaning of what she'd told him before: she had been protecting them. All those months she hadn't been betraying them or leaving them or hating them. She had wanted them safe. Wanted him safe.

Gibbs walked angrily out of the house and waved them back in the car even as Tony opened his door. He slammed it shut again and lowered his window.

"He's gone," he growled at Tony, his eyes flickering with suspicions for a moment as he took in his two agents arriving in the same car. "McGee's still tracking him from the office, let's go."

Tony nodded and turned the key in the ignition, but Ziva was suddenly flying out of her seat, running back toward the house. He looked past her and realized what she'd seen: a little girl in the window screaming, banging on the glass. Something was strapped around her body.

"Boss!" Tony flew after her, leaving the keys dangling and the engine on.

"I'll get him, you cover Ziva!" Gibbs' tires screeched as he took off.

Tony slammed through the house, trying to find the stairs. Finally he followed the girl's shrieks until he found her bedroom, found Ziva kneeling in front of her focused on the explosive strapped to her chest.

She spared only a glance for Tony. "Get out of here!" she snapped.

_She wants me safe._

Ziva didn't spare more than a moment for him though, and he watched as she expertly disabled the bomb and cut it off the child, then turned and practically threw the girl at Tony. "There might be more," she said quickly and he led them out at a run.

Rescue vehicles were pulling up outside as they reached their car again, and Tony sat the little girl on the hood of his car. Ziva pushed past him at once. He watched as she stroked the child's hair with a gentleness that seemed completely contrary to the adrenaline still coursing through all of them. Tony leaned in close enough to see her smile, the way she soothed with her eyes, her touch. He never wanted to live without this woman.

She turned a fraction, enough to see him, and her hand gripped his, tightly enough to ensure that he was still there, was still safe. Ziva relaxed.

_She loves me_. Tony squeezed her hand back, and when she looked up he grinned down as her with as much joy as if she'd said the words.

Ziva's brow furrowed. "Tony?" She pulled her hand free self-consciously.

He shook his head, still smiling. "Nothing."

He watched her as she continued to take care of the girl, as she dealt with the paramedics and the bomb squad. He stole glances at her while he filled in the LEOs and checked in with McGee. So many times in the last few months the memory of his words, his confession, in Somalia had seemed oppressive. He couldn't joke properly, couldn't focus on cases, was caught between regret and desperation for any kind of sentiment from her. Tonight had reminded him of something he couldn't believe he'd ever forgotten: they'd never needed words.

*

By the time they'd returned the child to her family and the house had been thoroughly swept by the bomb squad, McGee and Gibbs had apprehended the bomber. Tony sighed with relief as Gibbs told him to get some sleep and come in late tomorrow.

As he waved Ziva toward the car, Tony followed her with his gaze. He was no longer afraid of her secrets. Whatever truths he had to hear or tell would be worth it.

Tony could tell Ziva was nodding off in the car, and when he pulled up in front of her building, he unlocked the doors without unbuckling his seat-belt.

She looked at him with alarm. "You're not coming in?"

He hesitated. "It's been a long couple of days. This will keep."

Ziva shook her head, agitated. "No, it can't, Tony. That's exactly what we've learned." She reached out and grabbed his arm as she made her point.

Tony smiled slowly, laying his hand over hers. "Alright."


	5. Chapter 5

**Worth Dying Over**

This gets a little fluffy, but hopefully I've made them work for it. I think there'll be one more chapter after this. Let me know if you like it!

* * *

Tony stood aimlessly in the doorway of the apartment as Ziva shed her coat and headed into what he assumed must be the kitchen, muttering something about tea. He felt a smile spread across his face as he took in the details of her home: Hebrew books mixed with English ones, a few prints of paintings he remembered from her old place, a new TV that made his eyes gleam. Tony glanced back toward the kitchen and caught a glimpse of Ziva's back as she reached into a cabinet for mugs and thought, as he thought a thousand times a day, _She's alive. _In the weeks between Ziva's rescue and her return to work, the knowledge had consumed every third second of Tony's waking hours. It still hit him at moments like this, with a sudden ecstatic joy. _She's alive._

Ziva yawned as she stepped out of the kitchen and held out a mug.

Tony smiled affectionately as he led the way to the couch and sat down, setting his coffee on the table. "We can wait until the morning, Ziva. Nothing's going to happen to us tonight."

She shook her head, setting her cup beside his, and looked at him seriously. "Tony...for a long time I didn't think about what you said to me." Her eyes begged him to remember without her repeating it. Tony nodded. "And yet ever since yesterday, it's all I can think about."

He nodded again, in agreement, and in spite of his hammering heart made an admission of his own. "I spent the whole evening thinking about what you said, too, Ziva. But most days I walk around remembering when you were dead."

Ziva's eyes went wide, her face pale. She clutched his arm in sympathy, suddenly able to imagine, after the fright of the bomb that morning, exactly what it would feel like to know he was dead and she would never get another chance. "What happened?" she whispered.

Tony closed his eyes. She hadn't heard this part in Somalia, but he'd only told the lighter side anyway. He took a deep breath. This would reveal his feelings more than any words of love. He laced his fingers through Ziva's, studying them as he spoke.

"We were trying to find you. And Gibbs came and told us about your ship, that you'd...died.

I couldn't make sense of it for a minute, it didn't seem real. And then I looked up and Abby was just-- Crying. Sobbing. And it was all I could do not to fall apart." He took a breath, kept his tone level as he studied her hand. "I drank, a lot. The job wasn't worth much if I wasn't waiting for you to come back, but McGee and Gibbs and Abby were the only thing I had left." Finally he looked up at her, his eyes glistening even at the memory. "I wasn't lying that day. Or exaggerating. I meant it."

Ziva tightened her grip on his hand, nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

_She's alive. _He could feel her pulse in her thumb, she was gripping his hand so hard.

Tony reached for his coffee, taking a sip to calm himself.

Ziva folded her hands back together when he released her, and waited until she had his attention again to say nervously, "It is your turn, I suppose. To ask me whatever you need to."

His breath hitched and Tony took another sip of his coffee to cover it. He knew what came next.

"It is alright," Ziva said softly.

Tony met her eyes.

"I'll just tell you."

He nodded in relief.

Her hands twisted as Ziva began. "Because of what happened in Los Angeles, Salim wanted information about NCIS. I resisted, of course. I was fortunate that they lacked my training in interrogation techniques, but they were still...creative." She examined his face nervously, unsure how much he could hear. She said the rest in a rush. "They beat me, starved me...raped me." Ziva saw him flinch and kept her voice steady to belie the trauma that still woke her at night. "I survived it all. It is in the past now."

Tony willed his heart to go on beating as he imagined all the details she hadn't offered. He didn't need to hear more to be nearly overwhelmed by anger and pain on her behalf.

Ziva watched the emotion in his eyes sadly before going on. "Thinking of you all kept me sane."

Tony's eyebrows rose in nonverbal banter.

Ziva grinned with relief. "Relatively sane." Her smile faded. "I practiced so many times what I would say to you. I said some of it that day in the bathroom, but there was more. You were my best friend and I hated that you would always think I betrayed you. There were so many chances I regretted us not taking."

Now it was Tony's turn to take her hand in sympathy. "I know," he said softly, firmly.

Her heart skipped and Ziva said something else quickly, nervously, deflecting his attention and hers from the sensation of holding his hand. "How many replacement agents did you go through while I was gone?"

He smiled and shrugged. "Half a dozen? Maybe more? We interviewed dozens, though. There was this one, not just man hands, man _everything, _and we sent her in to Gibbs and she came out crying!" Tony chuckled, was glad to hear Ziva laugh too. "Nobody was you," he finished gently. She looked away again, overwhelmed by the intimacy of his words, but she didn't pull her hand away, so Tony pressed on, asked a question that had weighed on him for weeks. "What you said when Chad was here—you really want to settle down? You want a family?"

Ziva inhaled quickly at the change of subject. She pulled her hand from Tony's and stood, crossing the room and taking something from a box.

Tony watched warily from the couch.

She returned and sat, holding out a picture for him to see. "My father sent me this."

His eyes flickered in alarm, but Ziva shook her head.

"It was one of his efforts to get me back, but it could never work." She pointed at the photo. "This is me, Ari, Tali. In Haifa one summer."

Tony watched Ziva smile sorrowfully down at the children.

She looked back to him. "They are lost because of him, one way or another. And I have renounced him now, too. So I need a new family, and yes, I would like to build one here." Ziva's eyes were suddenly slightly fearful.

Tony smiled and watched her relax. He reached out slowly, not wanting to spook her, and laid his palm against Ziva's cheek. This time there was no anxiety; everything she'd done all day told him that she knew how he felt, that she felt the same way, that the words were superfluous. "I'll be your family, Ziva. I love you." He felt her teeth clench against a sob and pulled her against him. In seconds Ziva's arms were wound around his shoulders and Tony had never felt such relief.

"How can you love me?" she whispered in awe into his shoulder.

Tony pulled back in surprise, then chuckled, his spirits lighter than air. "Believe me Ziva, as a kid in prep school I never imagined I'd be circling the globe to rescue a beautiful, fascinating, mysterious foreign woman. But I can't imagine my life any other way."

She rolled her eyes, her lips falling into a smirk. "Tony, you spent those years watching James Bond. Is that not all he does?"

Tony hugged her again, laughing into her hair. Then he sighed and answered her. "Ziva, no matter what you've done, you're the only person who has ever known me the way you do, who I've ever known this well. And that we still laugh together and take care of each other is more than I've ever had." Her eyelashes were fluttering against his neck and it was the most maddening sensation Tony had known in recent memory.

He pulled back finally, asking the last question, his nerves suddenly returning. "Do you feel for me anything like what I feel for you?"

Ziva looked startled, and then she smiled at him, broadly, happily, her action her answer. "Yes."

Tony was surprised to find himself unprepared for this moment. He'd worried so much that it would never come that he had no immediate plan. So it was Ziva who leaned in and sealed their words with a light kiss. In his defense, Tony quickly slipped his hand back to her cheek and deepened the kiss.

Ziva pulled away after a moment to smile at him again, but interrupted herself with a yawn.

Tony echoed her the next second. He glanced sadly at his watch. "It's nearly three," he told her wearily.

She studied the clockface in turn, then looked back to Tony. "You could stay here if you like."

His breath caught. "Alright." Then, covering the awkwardness of their still undefined relationship, Tony leapt to his feet. "It's a quintessential American experience, actually, the sleepover. I think I had one for my birthday in second grade."

Ziva turned in the doorway of her bedroom to give him a shocked look and Tony's grin got wider. "You invite over a half dozen of your friends, camp out in sleeping bags, raid the kitchen for ice cream at midnight. What were you thinking?"

She gave him a sultry glance and slipped into the bathroom.

Tony was almost relieved when Ziva reemerged in yoga pants and a t-shirt, giving him permission to strip down to his t-shirt and boxers. For all the times he'd thought about being in bed with Ziva, it was nearly as exciting to just have this chance to hold her, and when they finally slipped beneath the covers and she hesitantly laid against him, it hardly felt real. _She's alive_.

"Goodnight, Tony," Ziva whispered, yawning again.

He kissed her temple. Tony watched as Ziva closed her eyes and began to drift off. As much time as he'd spent wanting this woman, all he wanted at this moment was to protect her, to have her safe in the circle of his arm forever. It was the most grown-up Tony had ever felt in his life.

She started to snore.

Tony chuckled at himself and nestled into the bed beside her, shushing the sleeping woman softly as he closed his own eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Worth Dying Over**

I've raised the rating for this chapter, but it's not too graphic. You all have your own imaginations for that (or you can check out my other work) and that wasn't really in the spirit of this piece. A million thanks again to those of you who have reviewed; I really hope something to this effect happens on screen, too! Also, Tony describes a conversation with Gibbs that I'm thinking of making its own one-shot. Keep an eye out for it if you like.

* * *

The light falling across her face was disconcerting as Ziva woke. She opened her eyes in confusion, glancing worriedly at the clock. 0700. Her heart sped up and she began to rise from the bed, but a weight at her waist held her still.

Smiling even as she glanced down, Ziva rested a hand on Tony's arm. Of course. They were allowed to come in late. And he loved her.

She rested her head back on the pillow, sorting out the rest of her disorientation. It was the first night she'd slept without a single dream since her return. They didn't always wake her now, they weren't always bad. But they always came.

Ziva twisted slowly around in Tony's arms, examining his face. He was still deeply asleep, completely vulnerable. He loved her.

In his sleep, Tony pulled her closer, rough fingertips grazing her hip and Ziva was suddenly flooded with memories of being undercover with him, of finding her picture in his room on the sub, of staring into his eyes as he told her this was inevitable—a thousand times over the years when they had seemed moments away from this. She'd lived them all over and over in Somalia. And here he was beside her.

She knew after last night that this was far more than sex. If they did this it would be a consummation, at once a beginning and the total loss of what they'd had before.

Ziva watched Tony's lips as he breathed steadily in and out. _Couldn't live without you._ Words from those lips. As frightening as it was, she knew the truth now. She couldn't live without him, either. She kissed him.

Tony moaned as he woke, responding instinctively.

She pulled back.

"Good morning," Tony said sexily as his eyes fluttered open, his voice deepened by sleep.

Ziva smiled shyly, but kept a few inches between them when Tony leaned closer. "Is this what you want too, Tony?"

The only word he heard was _too. _He covered her mouth with his again, pulling her against him. Ziva kissed him back hungrily, and no more words were needed.

*

Nearly purring with pleasure, Ziva set the kettle on the stove while Tony dressed. Her hair was still damp from their shower, but they'd have to rush now or face a glare from Gibbs when they got to work.

Tony emerged from the bedroom, buttoning up his shirt and grinning. Ziva passed him the coffee grounds and pointed him toward the coffeepot. He set it up, then turned to watch her, contemplating the grace of her movements.

Ziva frowned.

"What?" Tony asked at once, his brow creasing.

She met his eyes, concerned. "Can we still talk, Tony?"

"Of course," he stepped toward her and reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Ziva relaxed beneath his touch. They'd made this transition so smoothly. "Even before yesterday, I worried when you were in danger. More than when I was in danger alone." She watched his jaw tighten. "And yesterday you did not leave when I told you to—perhaps I should not have, but you were protecting me before yourself."

Tony shrugged. "That's what partners do, Ziva."

She raised her eyebrows. "Does it not change? Because of this?"

Tony sighed, pulling her away from the stove and holding her by the shoulders. "Ziva, I've loved you for years. And it always scares me when you're in danger. Maybe it'll be worse now. But it certainly won't be worse than explaining to Gibbs that we have to find another new agent because you and I can't work together anymore." To his relief, Ziva laughed. "And the rest, we'll work out."

Ziva pulled away from him, still smiling, as the kettle whistled, then turned to Tony again in alarm. "Gibbs!"

Tony hissed through his teeth. "Yeah. Well, when we lost you, he apologized for rule 12. Well, sort of apologized."

She gave him a skeptical look as she poured hot water into her mug. "He will not mind?"

Tony shrugged equivocally. "Oh, you know. Better to ask forgiveness for this too." He promptly clutched his hip, flustered, as his cell phone rang. Ziva laughed again.

"Hey, Boss," Tony answered. "Be right there."

Ziva looked sadly at her tea and leaned over to switch off the coffeepot.

They grabbed their coats in a rush, but as Ziva opened the door to lead the way out, Tony grabbed her wrist and spun her around.

"Tony!" she squealed, smiling.

He looked down into her eyes, overwhelmed again. Happy. He kissed her.

_ She's alive._

_ He loves me._

_ I couldn't live without you._

_ *Foof*_


End file.
